Angels
by Our Last Wish
Summary: In which Christine had gotten everything she wanted as a child. With her father's mysterious death, all she wanted now was answers. Disobeying her father's ominous last wish, she turns to darker sources in a world he desperately tried hiding from her. A world where no angels would tread. AU. In Progress.
1. Follower

**A/N: I had published some of this story before, but deleted it promptly because it was the school year and I didn't need to stress of this project. Now it is summer again and I can write to my delight. The beginning will be short, but I'm planning to have longer chapters.**

 **Little note that I'm _not_ planning to have a lot of fluff. Friendly to both E/C and R/C shippers mostly because this isn't romance centered. A crime centered story with a little mystery:**

 **Angels**

Story time mostly consisted of angels, for me. Father had a much too Christian childhood (hence, Christine) and had wished to raise me ambiguous from religion. Tales of creation and angels still accompanied my bedside, though. It always fascinated me how these heavenly beings watched over us and were greater than we could imagine. The Angel of Music, for example. Overseeing over musicians and blessing them. My father claims he was undeserving of any angel blessings. I didn't understand that at the time. I understood so little of him. He was rightful, in the end, to have kept secrets.

...

"Chrissy?" my father broke the silence, lounging on our worn down couch. It was the humid summer of many months ago. A lifetime away...I was stupidly innocent.

"Yeah?" I responded with only half attention. I was flipping through a new songbook; the pages were still crisp and pure white. I was desperately trying not to smile.

"Do you really have no friends you want to stay with when once I leave?" he asked with concern. This wasn't this first time he had done so; ever since he told me about this business trip, he's been very opposed to leaving me alone. He said he'd be gone for an uncertain amount of time…. but I did not want to impede upon him! I'm already at an age where I should be self dependent (even though I could barely make packaged macaroni). I insisted that I would be _fine._

"I told you, Meg has an upcoming dance competition! No matter what she says, it's too important for her and I'd hate to distract her. I'll just be here, safe at home." I heard him chuckle as he lit a cigarette. The scent has long been imbedded in all our furniture even though he tried using scented candles or such to get rid of the smoke.

"You are a compassionate girl, Chrissy. I'm proud of you" His voice was raspy as he breathed out a cloud of smoke. I smiled back to him.

"I'll be fine on my own, so go do what you're going to do and return home quickly." I was staring at a piece of cheerful music. With youthful determination, I decided to learn the piece once he left the house. I could surprise him with the song when he would get back! I could see him coming home, luggage and a sleepy smile accompanying him. I would hug him tight as I could. He would want to go to bed, but still willing to sit and listen just for me. I got giddy at the thought of his tired eyes lighting up at my clearly unexperienced singing, but being so happy anyways. I final broke out in a beaming grin.

I realized he had tried peaking!

"Agh!" I panicked and held the pages against my chest.

"I swear." I giggled out and he ruffled my hair. He walked off towards his office room and I sat there, almost too content with life as it is. Too content? Well I had a loving father, best friend, and an education I sometimes took for granted. Was this all fate had in store for me? The thought of a singular job straight out of college until retirement freaked me out, yet employment should be something cherished in such times. Again, I took no religious affiliations, but _fate_ I always fancied. Some sort of paradoxical thing where changing your fate could still have been fated to happen. Everything was simply meant to happen.

There was a phone call, I don't know, days later. Said my father's body had been found full of bullets. Time of death not known yet. Foul play suspected. The murderer is still unknown, but an investigation had been started. Sorrow came in heavy waves, and flooded everything that made sense out. Only grief and the choking feeling in my throat and this clawing pain at my chest. It made me question why? Why would anyone do this? Why did someone so horrible exist? Why was my father taken away from me?

The Girys came to visit. Brought some food, flowers, and comfort. I asked about Meg's competition.

"That's hardly more important than you, Chrissy!"

They said they could help with the funeral, talk with our lawyer. I breathed a sigh of relief when they left, but felt guilty because they were helping so much. I was being so useless. I was missing my courses, expensive seminars that my father paid for and I let the food that was brought up spoiled. I don't remember the last time I showered, even, but I just couldn't feel any motivation. Any time I tried doing something, it was with half my heart and I usually gave up before I finished. I was just…emotionally incapable. Everything was exhausting except for my mourning.

The funeral had lots of people. The large throng full of faces I didn't know that made me shrink. Some people spouted nonsense in front of us all. I was almost angry at everybody. Nobody knew him as I had. Nobody had loved and been as affected by him as I had. Here they all pretended like by tomorrow they wouldn't simply resume to their everyday lives. Now his body was in the ground. Only a tombstone left as a marker. I was able to find myself standing there once everyone stopped pestering me. Alone.

"Are you Christine?" I heard a gravelly voice behind me. I was slightly irritated by the intrusion. As he walked over, his tall form limped a bit. I just wanted to be alone.

"Yes." I hoarsely answered. I coughed to clear up my throat. Can you leave now?

"I knew your father." He started with. Well, many people had. I then noticed scars on his hands and I didn't doubt that there were more hidden under his sleeves. Probably combat injuries. Self defense? Crime? Who knows.

"I, uh, have a letter." He awkwardly handed me an envelope and walked away, still limping. I was skeptical for a second, but turned it over. I saw _his_ hand writing. Father's…

" _To my Chrissy."_

The moment was so overwhelming that I couldn't help falling apart right there in front of grave. I tried wiping at the tears with my sleeves and opened it up.

 _Your mother and I named you a name which means 'follower.' You have your whole life in front of you, so please, now, follow these instructions I will give you. I'm writing this in fear something will happen to me soon. You are no doubt confused and upset, but I'm warning you: don't search for answers, Chrissy. I have left everything to our trusted lawyer and my friends' hands, so you don't have anything to worry about. It's better if you don't find out what I did in my life. I love you more than anything in this world and this is the only way to protect you. I know I can't stop you, but before you'll realize it, you'll be in too deep. You won't be able to turn back. I care about you too much to have you go through that."_

 _Love,_

 _Papa."-_

What?

I felt all these emotions in my chest at once. Hurt, pain, anger, loneliness. It hurt _so bad_ and I was sobbing. I was sobbing so hard and I couldn't see, I couldn't think, there's snot, and my head hurt. I shoved the letter in my pocket and walked back to my house alone and disheveled. He was gone and far away and never coming back. He's silent. Under ground. Gone. The person who killed him was alive. Alive and happy. I felt so much rage and hate I didn't know I was _capable_ of. My father saw this coming; he knew something would happen to him. What did he do? Why would someone ever want to kill him? Why couldn't he have prevented this somehow? I couldn't fathom it. Now i'm left with these piles of questions I can't answer.

This letter could have said anything, but his last wish was for me not to meddle. This is last thing he wished to give me and he was so desperately trying to hide something from me. I arrived home and the front door closed me in to the lonely space. His office was filled with memories and traces of my him, this man i used to know. My father. It was dark. Felt so empty in the cramped room. The distinct scent of him in the room was still too strong to not hurt.

The investigation had gone cold officially. There was nothing left behind to go off of. No weapon or DNA found. It's infuriating to see the police be so incompetent. Isn't this their job? It was unnerving how there was so little evidence, though. I decided to obey the letter, in the end. I would wait for whatever my father left behind to be sorted out and all wash away in time. It was his last wish, as I had finally come to terms with, and I loved him dearly. I started going back to my classes and talked with my teachers and some other students to get caught up. I met up with our lawyer and was told my father left enough money behind for me to get by for a while without him. With so many things to be dealt with, his office was left untouched. News of Meg drifted to me about her doing excellently in competition and even receiving some scholarships and well deserved recognition.

I stared at the closed doors and reminded myself of the letter. I was afraid to look at it again; it was a symbol of danger and warning that was nothing like my father that i knew. I flipped through the pages of the music book on the couch. Some pages showed signs of wear and had notes scribbled all over them. I landed on the one I told myself I was going to learn for father. No! I stood up an took out the letter. I finally read it over again. " _I know I can't stop you, but before you'll realize it, you'll be in too deep. You won't be able to turn back."_ I won't be able to turn back? It's all too ominous it made me nauseous. I sighed and stared at the rushed hand writing, taking in everything slower this time. Maybe something would start making sense…-

" _Love,_

 _Papa."_

I never called him papa. Never ever. I found myself shaking, confused, and feeling all these raw emotions again. _Why?_ Why had all this happened?! I got up, trembling, and walked to the doors to his office. I weakly had fallen to the nagging voice and built up a shaky resolve. This couldn't hurt, could it? Meddling would be like going out and asking questions to people and going into places I don't know. Here is just...his office. I opened the doors and the cramped room seemed like a different world. I had no idea where to begin. I sighed and opened up the lowest drawer on his desk and began my search.

Looking through this place brought back memories. I knew that at some point in my life, I had a crushing realization I was terribly sheltered. I had spent the day with one of my friends and we drove around. Seeing the graffiti in the places we went already scared me and each time we passed a homeless person I was shocked and sad. When I had gone back home, I told my father about it like it was some shocking new news story.

"The world is not a very nice place." He replied. If I wanted candy, clothes, or anything trivial, it'd be mine. With no siblings, I never even knew that families larger than mine just passed clothing down instead of buying something new. I feel so stupid now, looking back and thinking the whole world seemed like a shining metropolis back then. I remembered Raoul. He was another part of that world. Rich family and a prestigious name that looked down on everybody. For a family full of bland saltine crackers, Raoul was sweet. He added to my disillusion that the world was perfect, like a piece of cloth without wrinkles, stains, or hairs. Perfect. Nothing felt right. I felt that I was groping in the dark, trying to find something real in this world my father raised me in. Didn't he know me better than this? I was always so curious and the moment I was handed that letter that I wouldn't sit there idly? I struggled to shut the drawer all the way closed and decided to just leave it. I slumped onto the ground and rubbed at my eyes, smearing my mascara but not caring. It was really late or really early. I had this gaping emptiness in my chest and this pain I couldn't shake off. Wouldn't he walk in the door any moment now? Would he really never laugh again and hold my hand? I felt helpless, exhausted, grieving over my father. I sat there for a while with nothing but defeat and grief staring at me.

In my delirious mix of emotions, I had fallen asleep. I dreamt of soaring angels of my childhood and wondered how things ended up like _this._


	2. Red

I jumped awake at the sound of the air conditioning starting up automatically.

My heart quickened in pace and seemed to blare in my ears. What was I doing? Blood rushed through my head and I felt numb in my limbs. I slowly got my bearings back together and started to look through the bookcases again, although much more sluggishly. I blearily looked through more documents. More letters. More books. So much searching left to do and only so much resolution. Within the bookcase I eventually spotted an old children's book. It was bright yellow in contrast to the white papers and black files. I felt dizzy when I remembered how father always read stories like these to me before bed. I wished to see the nostalgic pages, but when I opened it these…letters fell out. The book was hollow. I looked down. Crinkled paper. Red writing.

A signature in red pen: "E.D"

It unnerved me, so I only read through the ones with my father's familiar handwriting. I opened the one on the top and read trough it. I wasn't really interested until my name caught my eye.

 _"Christine is such a curious child and I struggle to keep all my secrets from her. Just the other night, I came home with bandages wrapped around my arm and she was so worried. I'm lucky she is a still a child, but she's growing up so fast. I pray the day never comes when she finds these letters."_

What?

 _"I have confidence to write here now that you are the only one I can truly put my trust into. I hate to ask more out of you after all you've done for me, but please protect my child if I cannot. I'm thankful you have given your last name, Destler, to us-"_

I felt as if I had found something big. The world shattering thing that would answer all my questions. Reasonably thinking, that's not true, but I was so euphoric in the moment that I just hugged the letter. There was a stack of them in the book, too! Did he know I would meddle so? Did he know I would, for certain, look inside some old children's book that he hadn't seemingly opened for ages? I quickly read a couple, but decided sleep would be a better alternative and then going through the letters while I was actually coherent.

Those letters, even though I couldn't read them all, revealed too much yet so little. It seemed that they all weren't there and were all out of order time wise. My father had done quote "bad things" end quote. Bad things, but it stayed about as detailed as that. It all seemed awfully convenient that I was lost in all of it. E…Destler seemed like a shady person. I couldn't exactly try finding him on Facebook and message him saying, "well HEY what do you know anything about mon pere?" God, I had felt so delirious in that moment. I hardly knew anything about "shady business." My childhood was such that I'm still too scared to walk down the street by myself, even in full daylight, or talk to people I didn't know! Maybe he was corrupt in the work place and that's why a cubicle job got us so much money? Even thought that I had jokingly thought that, I suddenly got scared at how plausible it was. "Bad things" covered a large, grey area.

Apparently, my mother never knew about the "bad things," too, up until the moment she died. It was odd, reading letters about a time when I was still a baby and about things I did I don't remember. Things like calling him "mommy" and mother "daddy" or switching the salt and sugar during thanksgiving and made hours of cooking going to waste. Amidst his vague confessions of "bad deeds" he constantly wrote of his love for me, which just made me feel all the guiltier. I read another.

 _"My conscience weighs heavier on me everyday. I think over everything I've done and how I have no right to be holding my beautiful baby. I feel guilty, seeing the bits and pieces of me in her. She has blonde hair. She gets her curls and bright blue eyes from her mother. Christine loves music. I'm certain you would like her. I made the decision to give up 'Daae' and I'm working on legally changing my last name. I'm sacrificing all this for her and I wish to become a better man. I'm hoping that's possible at this point._

 _Sincerely,_

 _G.D"_

Daae? How would you pronounce that? Like "day?" So, I'm Christine…Daae? I furrowed my eyebrows at the unfamiliarity, but didn't really feel the impact one should probably feel when they find out their name now wasn't exactly real.

In all seriousness, I was still too scared to read 's letters. I wanted to stick with familiarity before I dove into that mess. His handwriting also seemed too messy to legibly read in the late hours of the night. Maybe not the best time to read the letters, but when else? I wondered how someone with a child's handwriting could really be so bad. Unfortunately, the information in these letters simply wasn't enough. Confusing conversations (mostly about me or some vague, past events) would get me no where. So, I decided outside information could lend me the other puzzle pieces I know that I'm missing. Plus, it wouldn't be wise to put all my faith in these letters. I flipped through my father's address book, picking out a few names and ringed up one I'm certain I've heard before. Too late now, for certain, I thought as I clutched the phone a little too tight. I heard ringing and bounced by leg up and down to expend some nervous energy. I then heard a deep voice.

"You're Gustave's kid?" He immediately said. I choked up for a second.

"Ah, yes. My name is Christine." My hands were getting clammy and my heart was pumping loudly. If what I was doing before wasn't meddling, this certainly was. I was certain this man had been a frequent contact of my father, so I had high hopes with this conversation.

"Um, you were friends? With my dad." I asked. Stupid, Christine! Of course they were friends.

"Uh, yeah. Sorry abut his passing. You have my condolences." I couldn't tell if he was honest or just being civil over the static of the phone. I hated phone conversations. Conversations in general, I guess. I pressed my lips together tightly and silently berated myself for wanting ot back out.

"Did you know him very well?" I asked, hoping I wasn't setting off any alarms with him, yet. I've never been the most discreet person.

"I guess." I could almost hear his raised eyebrow in suspicion. Or was that my imagination? Paranoia?

"I hate to be a bother, but I've started interviewing a few of my father's associates for a…project I'm doing." I really hoped the lie was believable.

"In his memory and stuff." I was making it worse.

"He spoke about you to me before and I would appreciate a meeting with you, perhaps at a café or whatever's to your preference?" My voice hit an awkwardly high pitch on the last words. One hand grasped tight on the phone and the other was clenched onto the fabric of my jeans. There was quiet on the line and I almost thought the call dropped or something.

"Why not over the phone?" he asked. I felt my heartbeats slow and heavy, pounding like a prisoner trying to escape.

"I'm not a huge fan of electronics." I answered honestly, but also because I'm not entirely stupid. I knew phone calls could be hacked into easily or something. I wasn't a tech geek, I mean.

"If it's too much trouble, I'm sorry to have burdened you." I insisted after more quiet.

"I guess I can." I raised a fist in the air for success and kept my voice calm and professional. We set a time and place and didn't think for a second about the consequences. Things had been look up lately and I wondered why my father made such a big deal about this. Everything was going fine. The quiet in the house pressed against my head. Everything was going just fine. I consciously slowed my breathing. Breathe in, pause, breathe out. Everything would be _fine._

I nearly tripped over nothing as I was running faster than I had in any gym class. My hair whipped in the breeze that I welcomed on my red, sweaty skin. Of course my classes ran late. Of course I was going to be late for the meet up. Why were things going wrong at the perfect time? I violently turned a corner and almost rammed into a child.

"I'm sorry I'm late." I immediately apologized breathlessly. I sat down at a table with the man. I was still exhausted from my run and he gave a bit to compose myself. How unprofessional, ugh.

"I haven't been here for long." He reassured, but I saw his glass of water had been half emptied and his napkin was crumpled.

"Thank you for agreeing to see me." I managed to say stiffly. I tried settling down after being so worn out. The metal chair was uncomfortable and it was that perfect time of day where the sun was in your eyes and baking your head. Not extremely ideal.

"You must have been a toddler when I last saw you." He said in a light, conversational tone.

"I apologize for not remembering, but I guess I _was_ just a toddler." I laughed a bit, but found no humor. I had no idea where to start. Just…go for it?

"I'll get straight to the point." He said very seriously. I was confused for a second.

"Didn't you get that letter?" his voice was very quiet. How did he know?

"Y-yes, but I don't understand- I was interrupted.

"He's just trying to protect you." He insisted. I felt like a brick was weighing down my stomach and nausea came in slow waves.

"How do you know? Do you have the answers I want?" I tried keeping my voice quiet, but it was shaking so hard.

"You don't need these answers." He answered. He leaned back in his chair tiredly.

"Maybe you're right." My voice was slowly raising, yet still meek.

"But maybe once I find out what I need, I'll stop." The tremor in my voice betrayed the fake confidence.

"Listen, you're just a kid." He was starting to sound exasperated.

"There's many things you still don't understand." He then sighed, resting his elbows on the table.

"Do you know anything about E. Destler?" I suddenly exclaimed. It was bit too loud. His eyes turned dark and locked on mine.

"See? You have no idea how much trouble you can get in." I was caught off guard by his seriousness.

"You're not answering me." I stated with annoyance.

"Observant." He responded. I felt blood rushing to my face in fiery defeat.

"I think I'll leave now." I told him and left quickly without another word. I felt my nausea turn into frustration. I wasn't able to get anything out of him and that was completely my fault. How could I be so imcopetent? I slowed down my pace and looked around. The breeze picked up again as the sun was being covered by clouds. I realized the cemetery was within walking distance.

I arrived at my father's grave and sat in front of it slowly. I bent my head down and my hair scattered in the breeze. The grass rippled. It was very serene.

I was crying again. This pain in my chest making itself prevalent again.

"What are you trying to hide from me?" I whispered, something so desperate inside me thinking maybe he could hear me beyond the grave. Maybe he was an angel in heaven. Maybe he could see me right now and feel bad about everything. I laughed bitterly and wiped away my tears. I couldn't stay mad at father, though.

Should I just stop? It's clearly too much effort in than what I'm getting out. Probably. I sighed and stood up with a resolve to, well…give up? Yeah. I started to walk back to the sidewalk, but then the breeze picked up. My scarf caught up and was thrown up into the wind.

"Damn it!" I cursed and tried running after it, but stamina running out quickly. Today was really dragging me through the mud. I shivered and wrapped my arms around each other, looking at the ground. Ugh.

"Is this your scarf?" I looked up. It was a young man holding my red scarf. I was stunned that a stranger had actually bothered to go after it.

"Oh, um, yes." I cleared my throat and grabbed it back.

"Thank you." I tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear. I felt kind of embarrassed knowing my nose was red and my eyes definitely shiny. There was a pause.

"Do I know you?" He asked. I looked up and studied his features a bit closer. I couldn't be sure, but-

"Raoul?" I asked. If it was him, his features had really changed over the years. No longer a boyish little kid.

"Christine?" He asked in disbelief. It was definitely something out of a movie.

"What are you doing here?" I found myself smiling. He stopped smiling and sighed. I noticed the bouquet he was holding.

"Your father-" he stopped talking and the mood shifted.

"Thank you." I softly breathed out. We started walking together and I wrapped the scarf around my neck again. He set the flowers down and I had a strong desire for a change of scenery.

"It's so crazy to see you again." I finally said when we got out of the cemetery.

"We _have_ been out of contact for a while." He chuckled a bit. By a while I knew he meant years.

"I'm actually really glad to see you it's been a long day." I felt my throat constrict a little. I tried smiling. The trees were tinting with bits and pieces of autumn.

"Are you alright, Christine?" he asked frantically. I felt tears drip off my face and stopped walking. I started wiping, embarrassed.

"It's just my father. I think he's-" he puts a hand on my back in an attempt of comfort.

"It's been a while, how about we do some catching up." I offer.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his eyebrows furrowing. He's always been such a kind boy.

"You haven't changed too much." I say, avoiding his question. We continue walking and reminiscing over memories and catching up about what we've done over the years. He's, apparently, been all around the country and has finally settled down for college near here. His father and my father were friends, so news must have traveled as so.

It's a friendly distraction from all the confusion. We agree to meet up at a more convenient place and time again. A smile and goodbye. When I got home, I didn't touch the letters. Back there I had wanted to say, "I don't think my father was the person I thought he was." I'm glad I didn't say that because Raoul would think I'm absolutely crazy; don't want to go scaring him off. He was a comfortable normal and I think that's what I needed. Normal. Raoul has always been someone so precious to me. With no letters to read through, I went to bed early.

"And then when my teacher saw the student sleeping, the room got very quiet." I told Raoul as he looked absolutely absorbed into everything I was saying.

"You see, he's a mean, old teacher. All of us expected something horrible and embarrassing, even _I_ felt bad for the kid, but he walked back to his desk and he insisted that we take silent notes for the rest of the class." I finished.

"I wonder what compelled him to do that." He said. As we walked from carpet to marble tiles, my heels clicked loudly.

"People are strange." Was all I replied, clutching my hand purse a bit tighter. We were on our way to see an opera, coming from a delightful dinner together. Even after several dates, both of us still seemed unsure. Everything was kind of left in the air. He truly was an image from heaven, but looks really are so deceiving. Raoul has told me about his hardships from his father and a legacy to uphold, making me with my father feel petty compared to his ongoing struggle.

We arrived to our seats, but it would still be a while before the show started.

"I'm glad you're still pursuing music, Christine. All my life my father forced business on me and I guess I've never been passionate about anything else." Raoul told me once I put my purse away.

"Oh, I mean, my father kind of forced music on me in my childhood. God, singing and piano lessons nearly drove me insane." I laughed, but felt some raw sorrow being brought up again.

"I didn't really appreciate it back then, actually. Other kids seemed to grasp all these concepts that I had trouble with." I admitted.

"You weren't one of those natural prodigies?" he asked jokingly.

"If you can believe. I'm not sure why he was so adamant in teaching me music. He did business, you know? He had violin lessons in his younger years, but he wasn't as passionate as I became." I trailed off. More questions that will never be answered. Raoul continued talking, but I was no longer that interested. Questions I had been burying were suddenly all coming back. What type of man was my father? Really? Unrest settled in my stomach.

"I'm going to go to the ladies' room." I interrupted him a bit too coldly. I smiled, suddenly, in reassurance. He looked a bit hurt. I felt bad, but continued onwards. Slowly, at first, but once I got out of the theatre, I ran. I ran until I felt blisters and even then.

"Taxi!" I yelled once I had gotten outside. It took a bit, but someone finally stopped for me. I got inside. Sometime during the drive it began to rain. It was a light, but I still watched the drops slide down the window and morph into each other. What was I ditching Raoul for? Was it more important than human relationships and expensive opera tickets? Guilt started trickling in.

 _"It is a direct insult to myself when you say you are evil. If you are so, then what am I? I'm certain I'm a much crueler man than you. None of which you know, of course. Can you even be sure that I am who I say I am? That I'm not a monster? There is much you don't know about myself."_

Well that's encouraging. I can't be sure if I'm even looking for E. Destler or even E.D. My renewed desire for answers had been met with more questions. Plus, my eyes hurt from the red ink and chicken scratch.

My phone was ringing again. I knew it was Raoul. I felt bad for the poor boy, just running out on him like that. He would easily believe something like "It was an emergency and I didn't feel well" or "my phone died" or whatever. He was too trusting. Too good. As pink rays of sunrise peaked through the window shades, I realized how late, or early, I had stayed up. I hadn't even felt as fatigued as I should have, but too many in the AM reading sessions has ruined my sleeping schedule Hello, Unisom. I put the letter back into the book and slid it back under my bed; probably a crude hiding place, but easily accessible to me, so that's all that really matters. Should I make more phone calls? Or would they be as successful as before? I called a few numbers with little luck. I was too tired to deal with any more over the phone social interaction, so I slipped into bed. I was upset I hadn't passed out immediately. Passing out meant I more time to sleep instead of lying there for hours, having my thoughts brew inside my head. This was my third day in a row without a shower. Maybe I should patch things up with Raoul. Whatever in the world could the E In E.D. stand for? I couldn't even be sure about anything and that scared me.

"Sorry, my schedule has been really packed lately." I said while holding my phone in the crook of my neck. I was digging through my purse and was praying that my phone wouldn't fall.

"What are you even doing so often?" Meg asked.

"Well, uh, I'm not sure if things are working out with Raoul. You know he's a rich boy, so I've been meeting up with a couple of new faces." At least the meeting with new faces part was true, although they weren't romantic in any form. Or fun. My anxiety levels had definitely shot up in the past couple of weeks and I was thinking about getting some meds or whatever.

"I never knew you were such a flirt." I heard Meg tease.

"Me neither." I answered a bit too dryly and pulled out a pair of gloves. The air was becoming dryer and I feel it. Not fun. I kept a bottle of lotion somewhere in the depths of my purse, too, just in case it got too painful. I slipped them on and grabbed the phone again.

"Are you free right now?" she asked.

"It's nine o'clock. Even if I am free, what I'm most interested in is going home and taking a shower." I said a bit too caustically. I heard her sigh and felt bad. Again.

"I really miss you." The seriousness in her voice caught me off guard.

"I'm sorry. Once I've gotten things cleared up, I promise we'll have a girl's night." I told her.

"Sure…Good night, Chrissy." She said with a neutral tone.

"Good night, Meggy." And I hung up. It was probably time I find a taxi, seeing as it was getting dark already. A disastrous dinner meeting had me in a part of town I'm not too fond of, so I wanted to get to a more populated area. I suddenly was pulled and felt leather gloves on my face. They were covering my mouth. It was so quick I didn't even scream. A hard pressure on my temple.

"Why are you searching for Erik Destler?" a beautiful voice asked. It was actually so beautiful I was caught off guard and all fear left for that wavering second.

Everything was registering stupidly slow. A gun. Pressed to the side of my head. I felt bile in the back of my throat I wanted to scream. He took a hand off my mouth. I didn't scream. I probably should, but I was so dumbfounded.

"Who are you?" I asked, my voice was shaking along with my body. I'm shaking. _Oh god I'm trembling._

"I recommend you answer me." he threatened. Terror built up in my throat and I wanted to cry. Again. Always crying.

"Please don't hurt me! I promise I just want answers about my father!" My voice was getting dangerously watery.

"Who's your father?" He sounded so _evil._ Like he wanted to hurt me. Like he could easily ki-

Oh god, was I going to die here? Tonight?

"Gustave Destler! A businessman!" I cried out when I felt the gun press harder into my head.

"I just found some of his letters and-" I was interrupted.

"Your father? Who are you?" I felt the gun lighten. My legs were shaking so hard.

"Chr-Christine. Destler or, uh…Day?" I probably mispronounced it. I couldn't really care that much, though.

"Christine Daae." He says with the correct pronunciation. There was a pause. I swallowed heavily. I didn't dare say anything.

His hand was taken off my face, but the gun was still there. My eyes adjusted to the dark a bit, but I was still disorientated. Alarms were being set off in my head I knew I should just _run._ Whether it was my weak, shaky legs or my desire for answers, I didn't. I don't know why, but I didn't immediately run away.

"You're Gustave's daughter?" he asked.

"Yes." I saod in a high pitched, soft voice. I wanted to scream. I wanted to beg him to not hurt me. Beg for my life. The gun was ever present.

"Go home, _stupid gir_ l, and stay out of business that has _nothing_ to do with you." He said in a voice so venomous it struck my heart. His prevalent hate made me lose any confidence. He let the gun down and I turned around. My heart stopped as I set eyes on him in the half light. Baggy, black clothes did not hide his ungodly thinness. His hands, too, had long, nimble fingers that looked skeletal. But what was the most unusual was his black mask. It covered his entire face.

"I-do you…know…Why?" I felt so dizzy. My eyes stung. I clenched my fists.

"He was my father!" I cried out and stared straight into his eyes. Eyes that were aglow in the dark. I didn't believe in them, but in that moment he reminded me of a demon. So unholy that he could only stay in the dark.

" _Leave!_ " he spat and I backed up. Why did he wear that mask? Identity protection? Some sick October costume thing? Or was it something else? Terror gripped my heart and I had finaly started to cry. I couldn't speak any more. All the questions bubbled, but my stupid cowardice stole my voice.

"Why do you care about Erik Destler so much?" I had asked out of my many questions. I stared at the gun in his hand. He had given me a window to leave and I didn't do so.

"Stupid girl." He muttered and I had been knocked out before I could register.

I regretted the circumstances of everything that had passed. I wish I had done a million things different. If only I had been calmer or ask some specific questions, I would have left more satisfied! Maybe if I hadn't been so childish and desperate, things would be different now.

I had woken up uncomfortably on my couch. It was presumably late morning and I was grateful I was still alive. Home and safe.

I was just a tightly wound ball of regret. My stomach hurt. My eyes were puffy. I hadn't even found anything out E.D. except for a first name. Erik. I can't forget it. It's all I got. I sighed at the hopelessness of it all. A name had almost gotten me hurt? None of my questions answered? I was just a stupid little girl. A stupid girl sacrificing happiness with her friends and maybe even boyfriend. A stupid girl who maybe almost got herself killed. I shuddered at that thought.

Coming at yet another dead end, I decided to spend my days on something useful: my music. Lessons were absolutely average. So were my classes. There was going to be a Halloween masquerade concert thing that I had been invited through the school to perform at. I had invited Meg to come with me, but the way she refused I think she's not very happy with me at the moment. Who would give up going to a masquerade concert for some college party where everyone would probably be wasted by two AM. Someone mad at their stupid friend, probably. I felt pretty alone. I had been blessed with a handsome boy and a quirky friend, but neither of them were happy with me. I don't think I was very happy with me, either.

It was going to be a miserable time, surrounded by snobby rich people, school mates I didn't know, and without any of my friends. With red as the color theme, it would probably look less like Halloween and more of a massacre. I sighed with reluctance

These types of events were never quite my style.


	3. Deal

A/N: Hello, readers! I would love to hear some feedback on the story, positive or constructive, to get some outside views on it. You can read through your own story so many times and still miss many things, so don't be afraid to say anything.

"Champagne, ma'am?" a server asked me while holding a tray full of little, bubbly glasses.

"No, thank you." I rejected and he walked off breezily without a second thought. I knew I couldn't hold my alcohol very well and I didn't have the nerve to refuse the first three. Three. Yikes. I knew four would be a grave mistake and, frankly, my stomach probably couldn't handle that much. It is barely handling three at the moment. I fault a spike in nausea and let my hand hover over my mouth. Barely.

Why had I let myself drink so much? Ah, yes, because of my disastrous performance. Everybody who encountered me congratulated me on a good performance, but I knew it was certainly _not_ my best. Or even good at all. I wasn't putting enough energy or heart into it and I don't even know why. I mean, I'm certain there were many technical errors, too, but, overall, it must have been hard for everyone to get through it. I was embarrassed and just wanted to leave. Maybe I should take a fourth. I laughed a bit at the thought. Christine, drinking her worries away.

Every second in this place seemed a struggle of not simply spending the time on my phone or running away to the comfort and solitude of home. No itchy mask or tight dress sounded nice. Not only was I one of the youngest performers, I was probably one of the youngest attendee of the ball. All these boomers probably looking down on me. The red glitters of my mask were getting everywhere and would probably be a pain to get all of them off. I had thought the dress was too flashy, but then when I saw what everyone else was wearing I felt fine. Hey, at least that's a goo thing that's happened tonight. It wasn't the most socially confident situation I could be in, though.

"Ah, Miss Christine, almost didn't recognize you mask and all." A man bumped into me and greeted.

"You look lovely tonight." He was obviously on the intoxicated side of the spectrum. I took a step away from him.

"Thank you, sir." I said without much emotion.

"If only your singing could be as lovely as you." He sighed wistfully. I choked a bit at his audacity. I tried to calm myself by reminding myself that he obviously isn't in his right wits at the moment, but I was still hurt. It was true, I mean, but that was rude. He didn't really mean that. He couldn't have.

"People who I've seen sing like _that_ usually don't get into concerts." He continued his nonsensical babbling. Absolutely mindless, I remind myself.

"Maybe you should get out more." I shot at him, very done with this conversation. Going home sounded glorious.

"Maybe you should stop using your privilege and get some talent." He spat back, somehow being more offended than I am at the moment.

"Good night, sir." I curtly ended the conversation, not caring anymore. I quickly left the place and was relieved to feel the cool night air. I took off my mask and wiped away some stray glitters and a little sweat. Would it be improper for me to take off my heels and walk barefoot? I could very easily shove them into my purse and no one even has to know. I didn't end up doing that, though. I stumbled a bit, time to time, while walking; not quite sober, but not quite drunk. Tipsy? Yeah. I stopped for a second and leaned on a wall; I felt the blisters. Great. Another great thing to add to the entire list of _great things_ that has happened this beautiful night. I wish Meg was here. Wished we were still getting along. Wished she would talk with me, again. My heart was hurting again and the tipsy euphoria faded. Wished I would stop avoiding Raoul. Wished everything was normal.

I stopped walking.

Wished I had answers.

I grabbed my phone out of my purse and dialed my vocal teacher. She was a private instructor who starred in many musicals and such. Very talented. I've know her for years. It took a couple of rings before she picked up.

"Christine?" She asked over the phone, sounds of music in the background. I continued walking to my car.

"I need a break." I said abruptly.

"What?" she asked. Confusion laced her voice.

"Well, uh," I stopped walking for a second and gathered myself, "I think I need a break." I grabbed my keys.

"That's really up to you. As your teacher I wouldn't advise, but-" I interrupted her.

"I think I'm going through some emotional difficulty right now. I just need some time." Stupid, weak Christine.

"Are you okay, Christine? Should we talk again later at a better time?" she offered.

"Sure." I replied. I hung up, having no intention to call her again any time soon. I started up my car and drove home, self loathing slithering in my mind.

The school hadn't offered me any new singing opportunities. Even if they had, I probably would've refused. It seemed Meg wasn't mad at me anymore, but I've been pretty hard to deal with lately. She's starring in a ballet and busier than normal. I guess I was resentful at her success, but she's tried so hard her entire life. Everything was simply privilege for me. I was disgusted at the opportunities I got without any talent. I know she didn't say it, but my vocal teacher has definitely noticed my lack of passion. It was alarming, but I couldn't seem to care.

When I arrived back at my house, I checked my email. I guess it had good news. Some time back I auditioned for a new musical and I landed an ensemble role. With my lack of professional experience, I'm surprised I got in at all. Again, it was my name and status that benefitted me. It just made me angry. It made me want to throw every thing away.

Rehearsals started in two weeks. Midterms were coming up in four weeks. Great. I had already done some minor studying for major classes, but I knew, like so may other students, most the cramming would be done the week before. Whereas school went on break for two weeks, rehearsal continued nonstop except for Christmas day and New Year's day. Fun. I figured I wouldn't be doing anything special during that span of time anyways, but it'd be nice to get time off. To have some time to just relax.

It's been five months since father has died and what do I have to show for it? I haven't made grand leaps like Meg has. I haven't felt the hardship Raoul has. I barely know anything. I especially hated the oncoming winter. They were such sad months that were dark and depressing. I hugged my coat closer to myself and licked my chapped lips. I hated this city. I hated the constant noise and traffic and crime. This _disgusting_ place where father had been killed. His assailant still not found. I dreamed of living in a small town more southwards where I could walk out alone at night and not be scared for my life. Even right now, in the middle of the day, I'm scared. Everything else turned into white noise and I felt so alone.

When I got home I just sat on the couch. I fell asleep on the couch that night, have done nothing all day and when I woke up I just sat there.

I had morning classes. I didn't move, though. This went on for a few days where I just sat there and didn't eat. I didn't go to lessons or school and I wasn't going over the script. After four days of this passed, Meg came to my house because I wasn't at school. She found me in this embarrassing state. I had a fever. She called over Raoul; he was awkward and I was indifferent when I wasn't unconscious. Meg mostly took care of me while Raoul was more a delivery boy. I felt like the most undeserving person in the world to have these two around me.

"Christine, what's wrong?" Meg asked.

"Nothing." I said.

"I know that's not true." She retorted. What was wrong? I really had the gall to go and be sick and have these busy people with busy lives to take care of me. I shouldn't be sad. I should be happy that I live a comfortable life able to do what I love. I should be happy. But I'm not.

I'm not.

"I don't know." I responded helplessly. Once I got better I insisted they go out and live their lives. I continued my life, in turn. I crammed the script in before the first rehearsal. Meg helped me catch up in a few classes. But my life felt on hold. Like it's not moving at all. I hate the winter months. Just like the show, I was an ensemble character. I was watching others before me take the stage while I stood and smiled.

Rehearsals started. I do average on finals, miraculously. All of a sudden it's new years and I'm all by myself. Father and I were never religious. He told me to believe in things like fate or some cosmic higher power that wasn't a god or anything, just a heavenly power. Something greater than anything on this planet. Whatever we believed, Christmas wasn't a big deal to us, but New Years always was. We saw it as a time of rebirth and new beginnings. Hope. This is my first new year's eve without him and soon I'd be leaving behind the year that he left me. Raoul was busy with his family and Meg is no doubt partying her heart out. Both offered to stay with me, but I felt guilty leeching out their lives. I heard fireworks in the distance and my heart panged knowing time was moving faster than I could handle. I needed a break, but too much was happening. The musical was opening soon and the director was being relentless. I felt frustrated and disconnected from all those around me. I couldn't find it in myself to keep up with those around me and get good grades and do the show. It was all too overwhelming. As the clock changed from 11:59 pm to 12:00 AM I felt no difference. No new beginning. In that moment, I wondered where did I go wrong with everything? When did I become just another pale face in the crowd? What happened to the angels?

Then the show opened.

"You were brilliant tonight!" Meg complimented, Raoul standing by her side.

"Thank you guys for taking the time to come." I smiled, completely exhausted. Coffee and energy drinks were the only way I was standing. Insomnia rid my nights of much needed sleep.

"You just look so natural up there, Chrissy; I don't know how you do it. I would have been so terribly nervous," Raoul laughed nervously, "I have a hard time just public speaking." He confessed.

"Well I have a fear of the stock market; we're all different." Meg retorted. They laughed and I smiled again.

"I think I'm going to go get changed. How about I meet you guys at the restaurant. Go on ahead." I waved them off and took a breather in the dressing room. An ensemble actor like me didn't get the luxury of privacy, so I often just went to one of the backstage bathrooms. It's not always empty, but it's better than hearing the continuous chattering in the room I was assigned to. I had finally changed and started removing my makeup, feeling blessed for the emptiness and silence. I finished quickly, not wanting to keep Meg and Raoul for too long. When I had gotten out, there hallway was empty. I rushed out of the eerie setting and put my costume away. A single rose fell to the ground from the place I had just put my costume and I picked it up.

"Wow, lucky you." I heard a friendly voice tease. Another sweet ensemble girl. I furrowed my eyebrows.

"Did you see who left this?" I asked, examining the beautiful color.

"No, but maybe it was the cute boy waiting out in the lobby for you?" she smiled mischievously. I smiled nervously and shook my head. Hadn't they left already?

"We're nothing romantic." I insisted. She gaped a little.

"You two look adorable together, though. Hm, if he's not dating Meg can you hook us up?" she nudged me playfully. I laughed half heartedly.

"I'm not sure; he's very shy." I responded. One of her friends called for her and she hurriedly folded her clothes.

"Welp, gotta go." She waved goodbye and I sat there with only a few others around. I smiled at the rose and thought it unusual that Raoul had made a move after such a long time of seeming disinterested. I thought that maybe starting it up with him wouldn't be too bad. I remembered the two waiting for me and rushed to the lobby.

"Sorry!" I apologized and beamed when I saw them. They hadn't gone to the restaurant, yet.

"Thank you for the rose, by the way." I held it up to Raoul. He stared at it in a foreign way.

"There must be a misunderstanding I, uh, someone else must have left that." I felt blood rush to my cheeks and cringed internally. Awkwardness constricted my throat.

"My mistake, then." I managed to finally squeak out. Who had left it, then?

"You _should_ have brought her flowers, Raoul." Meg chastised as we exited the building. He looked sheepish and simply shrugged. I couldn't think of anyone who would want to leave me flowers and cursed the anonymity of it all.

"Christine has an admirer!" Meg teased. I laughed along, but confused still. We got into Raoul's car and arrived at the semi formal restaurant in no time. I relished in the warm atmosphere with my friends, connecting with them again. It felt nice. The happiest I've felt in a while, actually. We arrived and settled down, taking off coats and putting away purses.

"Oh, Christine, your lipstick is smudged." Meg noted and I covered my mouth with my hand.

"How embarrassing." I scanned the area and found a bathroom in a close by corner.

"I'm just going to take it off, honestly." I said to them, the dark, matte lipstick feeling gross by this point. They simply nodded and resumed happy chatter. I'm glad they got along because they were the two people I liked being with most. I went to the bathroom and pulled out a tissue form my purse. I looked up and cringed at how ghastly pale I looked in the mirror. My freckles had slowly disappeared once the sun stopped showing up so often and the harsh light in the bathroom wasn't helping. I wondered how I had looked while performing and hoped the stage makeup helped. Maybe Meg could tell me if I was just a washed out ghost beneath the spot light. After taking off the lipstick, I applied some blush to add some color, but gasped once I accidently applied too much. I was mortified because _I looked like a clown._ I didn't have any foundation or concealer to cover it, but I did have setting powder. Being better than nothing, I grabbed it from the ocean of trinkets in my purse and tried fixing it. I now looked a little cakey, but I settled and walked back out. Looking up I saw the two talking so happily.

I felt a wave of sickness. My hands and blood seemingly _chilled._ I had stopped walking and tried taking another step forward, but I couldn't move. _Why? Why now?_ My heart beat seemed slower yet bursting in my chest.

Meg looked back up at me. Smiling brightly, she gestured with her hand. Sorrow washed over me in crushing waves. Grief throwing me up against the rocks.

"You alright, Christine?" she asked when I had finally walked closer. The warm atmosphere turned cold just around me.

"I don't feel too well." I said despondently.

"What's wrong?" Meg asked, confused at my sudden mood change. I wanted to give a real answer.

"I don't know." I pinched the bridge of my nose.

"You do look more flushed than before." Raoul noted, not realizing I had simply put on blush. I didn't feel any desire to correct him.

"Yeah..." I trailed off. I slipped on my coat and scarf.

"I'm sorry, I know this was supposed to be a group thing, but I just…" I didn't know what excuse to make up. Why did I need an excuse? They looked concerned.

"Bye." I quickly grabbed my purse, not wanting to make a scene. I took long strides to get out of there and plunged into the cold. The chill bit at my eyes. I lost feeling in my gloved hands and my nose. I heard some calling after me, but I started to run. Without Raoul driving me, I had some ways to go before I would reach my apartment. I couldn't afford a taxi at the moment; I considered doing it because of the miserable cold, but the budget just wouldn't work with it. Little snow particles began building up, but it was melting as soon as it hit the ground. They blew directly into my eyes. I had to stare at the ground in order to see at all. How could someone go from happy to sad again so quick? Why was I so _stupid_? I berated myself and felt like I had deserved the torrent of wind and ice blowing at me right now. It was already dark out, but that wasn't so strange for this time of year. It had been cloudy and depressing all day and now the snow was picking up.

Disgustingly familiar leather gloves grabbed my arm. Again, hand over my mouth, but I still had a hard registering anything before I realized I was in an alleyway. It was that masked man again. His all black was a contrast in the falling snow.

"You _stupid girl_." He hissed at me and I tried conjuring some fear. I ripped his hand off my mouth (rather foolishly).

"Are you following me?" I yelled at him. He glared at me terrifyingly. I shuddered. His grip on my arm tightened. I tried ripping it away, but he was surprisingly strong.

"Who are you?" I asked. Panic was bubbling up. I tried backing up, looking around for help.

"Let go of me!" I wanted to cry out for help, but before I could, he pulled out a gun.

"I wouldn't recommend doing that." He threatened. I started trembling, remembering that terrifying night. My throat closed up again. Why had he cared so much about Erik Destler? What was this man's relations with my father? How could he point that gun at me with such nonchalance?

 _'I've committed much more heinous crimes. I'm certain I'm a much crueler man than you.'_

"You…" I gasped.

"You're Erik Destler?" I shouted at him through the storm. He shoved me to the ground and I was immediately disorientated. I heard gunshots. He had gone out of eyesight, but I faintly heard shouts and yelling. Was this my chance to get away? My heart quickened with adrenaline and I pushed myself up. My shoes crunched against the snow which was slowly piling up. I used the alley wall the help myself up. I just wanted to get home. I walked forward and I saw him. Erik? Gun at his side and…

I felt bile rise in my throat. Dead bodies and red dyed snow. I couldn't help but scream in utter horror. I met eyes with him. That horrible man who stood atop the red snow. My stomach churned. He took a painful step towards me and I assumed he was injured.

I ran. I immediately bolted as fast as I could muster and I ran until my lungs burned and then some. I didn't care what others might think or if I hurt myself, I just ran blindly. Once freezing cold, I was now sweating. I was so happy when I saw my apartment that I wanted to cry. I ran in, slammed the door, and locked it. I stayed there, breathing heavy, my legs filled with aches and fear. I finally relaxed and sighed.

"You could have caught your death out there." I heard all around me. _Him._ I felt sick again and tensed up.

"You also could have ruined that pretty voice of yours." Hearing the compliment made me more nauseous. Wh-what?

"Get out!" I screamed at the air. He walked out from beside me, but I was certain he wasn't there a moment ago. I was a small, pale girl less than five and a half feet tall whereas he towered above me. Breathing was suddenly very hard.

"Gustave always told me you had a beautiful voice, but I never believed him." He told me. My father. So was this Erik? For certain? I was confused. What was with the compliments? Did he want to hurt me?

"Although terribly untrained and full of errors, you do have potential." He continued and I was so lost.

"Wha-what do you want with me?" I asked. This was monster who just...the red snow flashed in my mind and I felt a cold sweat upon my skin. He was praising my singing? I wondered if I had bumped my head or if we on the same page. Was I terribly misunderstanding him

"I'll make a deal with you, girl." He stated with such confidence. I felt as though my heart would burst.

"Those letters you desire shall be yours." He proposed.

What? Why had he followed me? Did he _kill_ those people? Did he really follow me home and get into my house? Now he's here proposing deals after threatening me to stay away? I was dizzy. Dizzier. I was going to be sick

"If?" I finally asked. There had to be a catch. Strings attached.

"Music lessons. Administered by me to you."


	4. Desperation

A/N: Thank you to AResidentGhost, Pimraya, and see-why-in-shadows-i-hide for following this story and special thanks to Heeso Y for following and favoriting!

Drenched in golden sunbeams.

I remember the sun on my skin feeling so good. The light breeze rustled the trees and I truly felt content.

"We get everything we need from the earth and to the earth we return." Father said to me, sitting down.

"Didn't life originate in the water, though?" I asked him. The first microorganisms were theorized to have lived in water. It would take a very long time for even amphibians to live half in water and half on land.

"That's what the scientists think." He said. I sat down next to him.

"But in religious text, it's said that God took the earth, breathed life into it, and Man was born." He informed me. I hugged my knees to my chest.

"Yeah, but that obviously didn't happen." I told him. He raised an eyebrow.

"There's no way to prove that other than some book; that's it! And, truthfully, The Big Bang makes more sense that some God making the world in seven days." I told him. I had recently learned all this in biology class and loved showing off.

"There's no proof that it didn't happen though." He said. I was going to butt in, but decided to let him continue.

"No one was there at the creation of the world, so no can really know. No one can prove the existence of a God and no one can disprove it." He continued. I pouted.

"I thought you weren't religious." I said to him.

"I'm not. I'm agnostic." He replied.

"Doesn't that mean you don't believe in God?" I asked.

"That's atheist." He informed me. I took in the new information.

"So the difference is that Atheists don't believe in God and agnostics...don't care?" I defined crudely.

"Basically, yes." he said.

"Then I'm atheist." I self proclaimed at a young age. Later, I would join my father in the belief that no one has the answers in agnosticism.

"Anyways, you're right, but evolution still makes more sense." I told him and smiled.

"Whatever the creation of the world, we must still love it." He said and wrapped an arm around me. I closed my eyes.

"Remember this feeling of the sun and breeze; this is what it's like to be alive." He said happily. I took his words only half seriously at the time.

But in the darkness and chill of my house, I only felt death upon me.

Music lessons! Out of all the offers he could give me, he had insisted upon that? I couldn't wrap my mind around it!

"Wh-what?" I said so soft I wondered if he even heard me.

"A simple yes or no." he responded.

"Wait, what? I have questions! Who are you, what are you doing- why? Why? Why!" I started to panic.

"A simple admirer of the arts." He responded so coolly. No this _thing_ was shady man who was capable of heinous crime. Crime like-

"Get out! Leave!" I suddenly yelled at Erik. His burning eyes stared down at me. He didn't move.

"I-I'm not interested." That was a lie. I was interested in the letters he offered, but I couldn't stand the thought of being alone with him, let alone singing! He glared at me, clearly seeing through my paper thin lies. I wondered what compelled him to offer that. 'Teach me how to sing.' I already knew how to sing. And why would he tell me to leave him alone and then seek me out? He had much better things to do…Really, though?

"Th-those men back there..." I trailed off and looked at the ground, wide eyed.

"Dirty gang members. After you." He said easily. I became lightheaded.

"Me? What would they want to do with me?" I was terrified; who would want to hurt me? Was this part of my father's warning? Why had he stopped them from getting to me? What would have happened?

"Perhaps you should find out in the correspondence." He irked me. I straightened up.

"I decline your offer." I said with all the confidence I could muster. I would not let him stay here and pull the strings. I saw his yellow eyes glare at me, but he swiftly disappeared out somewhere. It's almost ironic that I had searched him out, but now that he was here I was too afraid. It had taken a while for me to calm down. I wasn't able to sleep well that night in fear of him returning, but after waking up at six after two hours of sleep, I had regret. I had another two performances and I drank three energy drinks to get through both of them. By the end of the second show my performance was fairly lack luster and a few people asked me if I was okay. I responded as one should.

"I'm fine, I'm okay." Of course, I was tired and scared, but no one really looks for an honest answer with those types of questions. I looked at upcoming audition dates and took a picture for later reference. I drove my car home that night, too afraid to take public transportation. I kept thinking about those men. They would have killed me. Those images kept flashing in my mind, creeping upon me whenever I let my mind wander. All of this from a few letters and phone calls? It didn't make sense to me. If it was that easy, father wouldn't have warned me more. It didn't add up. When I got home, I had another sleepless night spent working on audition preparations. It was mostly as a distraction for my shaken mind. I was considering to take some Unisom, but after the energy drink shock my body suffered, I wondered if it was healthy to keep drugging my body.

It was around four AM when I finally checked my voice mails I've been avoiding. I had wanted to talk to someone, but remembering the disastrous dinner made me sick. Three voicemails from Meg. Five from Raoul. I felt guilty again. After listening through them, I decided to leave messages.

"Um, hello, Raoul. It's Christine. Obviously. Sorry. Listen, I'm sorry about what happened at dinner with Meg. I know it's a lame excuse, but I haven't been feeling great recently and the show is kind of stressing me out. I know that isn't a proper excuse, but I don't really know why…I really was happy to be with you guys and I thought that I wouldn't feel this way with you guys, but it happened anyways. Just pathetic, old Christine. Like always. I wonder why you guys continue to be friends with me, honestly. I'm not worth anyone's time, but…I know it's selfish, but I don't want to be alone."

" _Beeeeep! You have exceeded the time allowed for a message. Press one to take another message. Press two to save this message. Press three to delete this-_

 _Are you sure you want to delete this message? Press one for yes. Press two for-_

 _Message deleted."_

"Christine Daae?" I heard my name being called. I nervously walked onto the stage, squinting at the bright lights.

"Good afternoon." I introduced myself and announced the song I would performing. I wondered if they took one look at my pale, pathetic self and came to their own conclusions, but didn't feel the motivation to do much makeup. Before my sixteen bars were even up, I was stopped.

"That'll be enough, thank you." A man said half interestedly. I choked up a bit.

"Thank you." I mumbled and I breezed offstage quickly. I knew it was unprofessional, but I was overwhelmed. What had Erik even seen in me? He said I had a…beautiful voice? I didn't know how he could see anything other than something flat and weak. The familiar feeling of self disgust slithered back into my mind. After some half hearted choreography, I drove back home in the dark. When I parked my car, I leaned over and pressed my forehead onto the steering wheel. I picked up my phone again, but I just stared it. What a disaster.

"Am I really that desperate?" I whispered to myself. I looked up suddenly got the paranoia to get back inside. I slammed the car door shut and locked it while I was running away. It was like when I was younger. When I would turn off the light downstairs and ran as fast as I could upstairs to escape the dark. I slammed my front door behind me and and wondered if the neighbors could hear me for a second, but I didn't care. I turned on the lights and opened up my computer to play some music. I leaned back on the sofa with some tea I made.

Was I truly considering his proposition? Was I _really_ that desperate? My old vocal teacher had clearly lost all hope with me and she was a professional in her field.

I remember how singing used to be. It had so much more meaning with father. Father, who was friends with that shadow of a man, had instilled in me this love and I've lost it. Would I find it again with… _him_? Everything in my head said no except for this small sliver of hope. No, Christine, how would you find him? Risk walking alone again at night and get jumped? I shivered at that thought. I didn't need him always saving me. I had only ever seen at night in the streets, but that's not going to happen. I would have to lure him out. How? I focused on the music playing in my house.

Music, that's how.

And so I would call my connections, use my name and money, and I would sing publicly again. This would be the last time I would have to pull strings to perform. I would either get the talent to have them all at my feet (because I was so tired of being at theirs) or I would give up once and for all.

 _"Christine? It's Raoul. Meg and I have been really worried and we're sorry we can't check on you. I'm sorry for being a bad friend. Meg doesn't admit it, but she's constantly worrying about you. I encourage you to reach out to her. If you need someone to talk to, though, call me. Please"_

Raoul send another message to Christine. One of so many that she hadn't replied to. He sighed and leaned back at his work table, paperwork everywhere. He guiltily admitted to himself that if he were truly a good friend, he would go over to Christine right now and talk to her, but she was so unstable that he didn't know what to do. Communication was important, but she wasn't saying anything at all. He had certainly voiced his concerns. He had been overjoyed when he finally met with her again and she seemed happy (well, happy enough for someone who's suffered a family loss) and they had fun together, but she'd been going downhill. He felt guiltier when he thought about all the signs he dismissed earlier. She'd stop seeing him as much and stopped telling him things. He wanted to be a part of her life again, but his life has demanded so much out of him it's seems impossible at the moment.

She needs him now, though. His phone rang. He lazily checked it and jumped when he saw 'Christine' as the listed number. He answered right away.

"Christine?" He asked after a moment. A beat of silence that made him doubt so.

"Yeah…" It was her voice and he breathed a silent sigh.

"I got your messages. Thank you." She said.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"…I'd say fine, but you wouldn't believe that." She laughed, but there was little humor.

"Whatever you're comfortable with." He encouraged. She went silent again.

"It's actually nothing. I shouldn't have called you." She rushed.

"No-" but she hung up. He stared at his phone and the Call Ended screen. He should have called her back in that moment, but once again she refused to reach out to him. He was feeling pushed away and it hurt him.

So he set the phone down and continued working.


	5. Silence

A/N: Heads up! I'm leaving on the 27th (in six days from this update) and won't be able to update for a month, so I'm trying to get out a lot before I leave. That doesn't really excuse the short chapters, but your guys' understanding is appreciated!

"It's nice to know you're singing again." Meg said to me. Things are still kind of awkward, but we've been talking again for a while.

"It's nothing big, just a few songs at this stupid dinner. I'm just glad you're coming." I replied. I was glad she asked to come, but I was upset because I couldn't refuse. If I were to find Erik, I wouldn't want Meg to be with me.

"But if it gets boring at any point you can go home." I lightly encouraged her. She laughed.

"Dude, unlike you I don't go to these fancy events a lot, so I think it'll fun just to be there." She said without a thought. I inwardly groaned.

"They're more boring than you would expect especially if you don't know any of the people." I told her. It was definitely true from all the experience I've had. She shrugged and cheekily grinned.

"If you're afraid I'm going to leave you, don't worry, I'll make sure to be with you all night." That wasn't what I wanted to hear, but I just smiled.

"Thanks." I lied through my teeth. After we finished talking, I put on my coat and went outside. The weather was finally showing signs of getting warmer (even though it was far from pleasant) and I could feel my mood improving. This would be successful. I hoped. When I got home, I returned to the pile of files in my father's office. I've resumed searching for answers again because if I couldn't contact Erik again I didn't want to be at a dead end. It was too boring for my mind to bear, but I couldn't help but feel like something was amiss. Some financial documents recorded my father's income and taxes, but sometimes the numbers didn't add up. I mean, no one likes paying taxes, right? I didn't like paying them, at least. It's just that his business enterprises were always so successful. That was a good thing. He was a successful man in life. My heart felt a dull ache in it. I hadn't really known him, had I? After a few hours, I had written down some emails, passwords, and locations that seemed important. I sighed and tied back my hair messily. This would be hell to clean up, I thought as I looked at all the piles of papers. Father wasn't exactly a neat person, but all of his files were pretty orderly. I stretched and decided to take a break for lunch. I was fixing up something microwavable instant thing (bad for my health, but I'm lazy) and I checked my phone. I called Raoul a few random times after I bailed on him, but he never picked up. I told myself that he was busy or that I was calling at bad times, but I couldn't help but feel like he was ignoring me. The microwave started beeping and startled me.

As I started to eat, I pulled out the locations I was going to. It probably would have been best to check some months ago, but better now than never. I wrote down on the list to buy some pepper spray, remembering what happened last time I went on an outing by myself. There was another office location at work. I still had some time before they cleared it out, so it should be mostly untouched. His desktop was also there, so I could enter some of these passwords I had. There would also be more financial documents there, hopefully, so I could find out more about that. Maybe even more letters? It wouldn't be the end of the world if there weren't any more. It might definitely feel like it, though. I groaned. I Had never been the best problem solver. I always gave up on puzzles and riddle that required extensive logic because I could never put anything together. I my high school years one of my friends even remarked that I should never become a detective or else all the cases would go cold. I laughed at the time thinking how true that would be, but now it was kind of devastating. A lot was probably going over my head.

I pushed the thoughts out of my head, trying to stay determined. I threw my garbage away and held my phone tentatively. Would now be a bad time to call Raoul? It could be his lunch break right now. I checked the time; definitely his lunch break. Would I disturb him, though? I dialed his number slowly, but never actually pressed call. After a few minutes of debating, I deleted the numbers and sighed. Of course I was backing out. I was truly very ungrateful to him. It's just everything in the past months had seemed to rushing so fast and I could barely keep up. It was only now where things seemed to slow down a bit and I could indulge in moments like these. I curled up on the couch. I shouldn't have asked Meg to come with me. When I finally reached out to her, idle prattle had lead to me mentioning this stupid event where I'd likely be singing one (supposed to be _two_ ) songs and no one would pay attention. Meg might bolster my confidence, but she'll probably just scare off that one I'm looking for. I shuddered lightly when I thought about that prospect. Willingly searching out that man? I couldn't imagine it. _Hello! Yeah, remember my last freak out on you which was certainly not my first? Me too! So uh, music lessons…?_

Music lessons! Being alone with him on a regular basis! I felt my stomach filling up with dread. Maybe this wasn't the best idea. Maybe it'd go better than planned. Maybe I could dazzle the crowd again and leave without even thinking about Erik. There had been a lot of music in my head recently, so at least a part of my mind was still passionate! The hours trudged on as I practiced on my music and eventually night had started to fall across the sky. Slipped on a plain little dress and a necklace, not really feeling like going all decked out. I put some nude lipstick on and got in my car to pick up Meg. I turned on the classical channel because I knew Meg would want some pop once she got in the car. The channel was currently thanking its sponsors or whatever. Announcing some names that were lost to me. Then music filtered through the quiet air. It'd look like I'd be early. Since Meg was always such a last minute person and always distinctively ten minutes late, I had to be the one on time for the both of us. I drove the familiar suburban path which was fairly empty. They probably have better things to be doing on a Friday night than sit at a boring dinner event for a couple of hours and then sing for a few minutes unnoticed. I didn't let myself get bummed out, though, and I certainly didn't let myself get nervous. I tried focusing on the staccato violin piece.

My thoughts betrayed me, though. What would I say to him? How would I even find him? He didn't seem like the type to go to dinner parties or even stay in one place for very long. Would I just go out back or whatever and call out? Would I have to search him out or would he seek me out? I had avoided all these questions for so long, but I couldn't let myself have so many last minute doubts-

I ran over something with a loud pop and I yelled out. The car swerved dangerously as I heard whooshing of the air leaving the tire before screeching to halt. I was clutching my steering wheel tightly. What had I run over? My car was now tilting presumably because one of my tires had…popped. I looked out into the darkness and felt fear creep up. I grabbed my purse and groaned because I hadn't gotten the pepper spray, yet. I decided to text Meg.

 _Hey girl_

 _Bad news_

 _Think I just ran over something and my tires might not be ok_

 _Can you come? Maybe with a spare or something?_

I didn't get an immediate response, so I sat in the darkness. My paranoia was spiking like mad and I had a hard time controlling my thoughts. It's okay. If this were out in the daylight you'd be fine. Just go out and check the tires. Breathe. Stay calm. I did some breathing exercises, but they barely helped. I leaned forward and placed my forehead on the steering wheel. Wait for Meg, Christine. Think about the positive things right now. The classical music still played, innocently unaware. Ok. I still had my music going. My car still had battery. There were people within walking distance. My phone still had battery. I wasn't injured. My heart beat finally slowed down, but I was still scared. I opened the car door and the sound was jarring compared to the drone of violins. I looked around and there was nothing but darkness and tress, house lights visible in the close distance. I stepped out quietly and looked at my front left tire. I cringed at the damage; it was nothing better than a pile of rubber, really. I looked back and tried finding the source, but couldn't see anything.

 _"What a situation you find yourself in, girl._ " I screamed. I shrieked at the sudden ghost of a voice sounding like it was _right next to me_ but I couldn't see anything. I tried getting back into the car, but like a ghost he appeared out of no where and grabbed me.

"Singing? Publicly? After you've refused me?" he stated more than asked. Although it was our third encounter, the fear was still so prevalent. It intoxicated my mind until I couldn't think straight. I had to stay calm. I had to stay calm. I was shaking again.

"Y-yes.." I finally managed to say with a terribly nervous voice. I looked back at him. Still all black. Still that mask. If I needed to run away, I could run and go to those houses up there. I could yell. Dial 911. Hide in my car? I was looking for options out, but remained still. The classical still droned on.

"I want…" I stated more boldly in the darkness.

"I wish to _accept_ your, uh, deal." I choked up a bit. How could this be happening. Before I even stepped foot in the place, here he was. Regrets seeped into my mind. I should back out this minute. I should tell him to leave me alone! Never come back! I want out!

"For the letters." I finished. My heart was beating so fast that my chest was hurting. Again. I must have been insane.

"Wise decision." He simply responded. I jumped at the sound of my phone ringing and looked back at my car. When I turned around again he was gone. My eyes widened, but I picked up my phone. I had missed several text from Meg. I picked up.

"Oh my gosh, Christine, are you okay? I'm on my way right now with my father and a spare." Meg's familiar voice sounded so nice. I let out a shuddery breath.

"I'm fine." I replied and I meant it.

"I'm not hurt or anything…thank you." I clutched the phone tightly. I got back in my car and realized a different piece had started playing. I turned off the radio and contented myself in silence.


	6. Truth

Chapter Six:

A/N: My obsession with drawing and typing has finally backlashed at me: I've gotten carpal tunnel.

"What's your relationship to Mr. Destler, Miss…?" The lady at the front desk asked.

"Miss Christine Destler. He's my father." I answered nervously. I was at my father's office building and was ready for someone to get suspicious at any second.

"I wish to go through some of his, uh, belongings." I continued on. I wrung my hands together tightly.

"Just be mindful." The lady said in a way that she couldn't care less. That was mildly comforting. I tried not sprinting straight into his room and took controlled steps. He had brought me here a few times in my high school years before I could drive, but it never interested me before now. I always thought it was full of boring paperwork and files. For the most part, that's still true, but I have more hope for something a bit more interesting than that. Or some not boring paperwork. Whatever I'm looking for, I probably shouldn't exceed staying two hours. I finally got to his doors and dug out his keys from my purse. I walked in and the air was pretty stale. I quickly turned on the lights and dumped my purse somewhere on the ground. God, there stacks and bookcases and bins _full_ of paper! Plus the desktop? I groaned and knew that I would definitely exceed two hours. I tied up my hair into a ponytail, pulled out the sheet of paper with passwords and such, and started digging.

First, I looked through finances. It was mostly small print numbers that went on without end. I hissed as I got a paper cut. I looked around for a band-aid, but decided to wait it out. I didn't want to get blood on anything, so I pulled out my phone and checked the time. Nearly a half hour had passed. Great. I groaned; Math had never been my strong suit. I was definitely a left brain over right brain person. In school, I had suffered in my math classes, but always enjoyed history, English, language, and the arts. It was nice to be taking courses centered around what I loved, but it seemed so artificial compared to the actual experience. Music theory, drama interpretation, vocal performance, and other classes. Textbooks and the work seemed unconventional prep for, I don't know, the 'real world.' I had complained a few times to father and he offered to help pay tuition for an out of state college. I had stopped after that; he had bought my way with private school education and I couldn't stand the thought of leeching out of him or student loan debts, so I stayed content with the music education I was being given now.

 _"Wise decision."_

I grimaced involuntarily. I had tried to not think about it, but it always slithered back into my mind. When I went out to get the mail two days ago, I found sheet music and a note in that red ink stated a time, day, and location. I needed to get out of the house after that happened, so now I was here after some more file searching and looking over the music. A French piece of music. Opera. Also got that pepper spray which lived safely in my purse. But I don't sing opera. I avoided that detail and simply continued searching. Another hour had passed and it was becoming stuffy and frankly, with all the lifting of these bins of papers I felt sweaty. I had saved a few files to look over at home when I wasn't in such a time crunch and gross feeling. I knew I would have to come in here again, anyways, so I booted up his computer. I squinted at the bright light and looked at the passwords I had. The keyboard was bigger than my laptop and it was awkward to type. The first two didn't work and I started to get lightheaded. The tension in my body left when the third one worked and I cracked my knuckles. I was overwhelmed by the amount of files there were and started to open a couple, searching up keywords on different desktops. As said before, I've never been the best detective. I couldn't possibly ask help from others, so I was on my own. The clock ticked. I emailed documents in the masses, barely caring anymore. My legs were sticking uncomfortably to the black chair. By now two hours had passed. A person passed by the office every now and then, but no one took notice of me. They passed by and every time I would tense up, but every time they just continued walking. Three hours. I finally turned off the computers and the blaring fans took a second to turn off. I picked up the files, my purse, and decided to grab a few photos to look less suspicious. The door was locked and I was ready to finally get away from here.

"You're Gustave's kid!" I heard someone call out. I felt a chill in my blood. I slowly turned around.

"Uh, yeah. Hello." I said stiffly. Some guy in a suit that I didn't recognize. He smiled and laughed in a forced manner.

"That man, he would brag about you all the time. Proud of your musical accomplishments." He breezily said. Small talk. I swallowed hardly and felt embarrassed.

"Oh." Was all I could say. He laughed again.

"Looking around in his room for old times?" he asked, pointing to the photo of my father and me. I clutched the photos

"A little." I answered curtly. I wanted to sprint away, but of course I had to run into someone that recognized me. It would take me 25-30 minutes to drive home since traffic would be bad right about now. I needed to drop off the files and shower because my hair was tragic at the moment. I suddenly became aware about how disheveled I looked in the pristine office building. Ugh, I needed to drive out to the location afterwards and see _him._ My stomach churned again.

"You know what, he was an impressive man. Some loved him for it, some didn't, but hey that's life." He interrupted my thoughts. I smiled and nodded.

"Yeah, no getting around that." I was ready to get out at any moment.

"And I always respected him for that confidence of his." I inwardly groaned.

"Yeah." I agreed quickly.

"Maybe that's where you get all that confidence to perform onstage." He laughed again. A loud, annoying guffaw. "I could never do that."

"Takes time, yeah." I answered. He kept on going, my _god_.

"You really enjoy doing what you do?" He asked. I nodded.

"Stick to it, kiddo; you got a bright future." He patted my back to which I flinched. He walked away casually. I stood for a second before walking as fast as I could out of there. I shoved all the papers into the glove compartment and stared at the pictures for a second. We were so happy together. It was me in middle school and my first choir performance. I remembered the black dress was so uncomfortable and I ran out of time to do my hair, so it was left untamed. Father joked how the kids behind me were obscured by my hair and then gave me a bouquet of flowers to appease me. Thank god my hair mellowed out over time. I smiled at my blissfully ignorant smile and father. He always looked so tired. I frowned and set the pictures down. The drive home was spent processing information. I would need a calculator and some scratch paper, but I think it coincided with the papers that I found in his office; his enterprises were always successful. He stored money in more than one bank account, but how many there were I wasn't sure. He was good at paying loans and sums back to the bank on time. Handled money well; a true businessman. He worked on holidays and had a sum of vacation hours he never ended up using. He seemed well liked and if there was conflict, it usually was resolved or settled in some way. I think I was understanding all this, but I would have to look extensively over what I had to clear up some foggy areas. When I got home, I wanted to simply lay on the couch, but I needed to shower and get ready for music lessons. Music lessons. The thought was still absurd. Before I left, I peaked at the music again. I couldn't sing this. I couldn't! The closest thing I've gotten to opera was a mock piece in a musical I did a while back. I didn't have a powerful enough voice. I've seen opera before and I knew I could never do what those women did. Plus, the plots were generally thin and boring, moving at a slow pace. I was horrible with singing foreign languages like German and Italian.

I got in the car. I wondered if it was a coincidence the piece was in French, the only other language I know, or if he knew somehow.

When I arrived, there wasn't anybody in sight. I clutched my purse and readied myself to reach for the pepper spray. The school didn't allow students to have another other types of self defense weapons on campus and, truthfully, I wouldn't know how to use them. Would pepper spray even work with that mask of his? I started trembling and cursed my cowardliness. I entered the abandoned theatre and let my eyes roam around. Pretty, but outdated. It must have been closed do to growing interest in more modern shows. Few places stayed successful with solely opera. I looked around cautiously. I was probably trespassing, wasn't I? We probably were not allowed to be here. I anxiously went to check the time.

"Admiring?" I heard his voice and jumped, squealing a bit. I turned around to see him, clutching my fast beating heart. He hadn't even used his weird ventriloquism thing of his, but I didn't hear him coming at all.

"Oh. Uh. Yes." I stiffly answered. My grip tightened on my purse. He breezed past me and it took me a second to start following him voicelessly. I looked at the music again. I wouldn't be able to sing it. I clutched it to my chest. I had a hard time keeping up with him. All that could be heard was my heavy foot steps, my breathing, and the jangling of my purse. We quickly got into a large with room with a piano in it. The wallpaper and gold décor was beautiful, yet faded with time. I pulled glanced at the music again and swallowed audibly. My body was so stiff that it was hard to move. My jaw seemed set in place.

"Um." I finally spoke out to him. He sat at the piano in a way with familiarity, yet still seemed so out of place. In the daylight, he looked so much thinner if that was possible. He looked to me. Piercingly. I faltered.

"This piece…" I held up the music clumsily. He didn't break his gaze. I looked away.

"My voice, um, I don't think I…" I looked at the ground. "I don't think I have the voice to sing this." I finished meekly. I didn't dare look at him.

"Then I will merely shape it to." He answered. I was confused.

"I don't do this type of stuff though…Opera." I felt so small.

"The piece is truly from an Operetta," he corrected and I flushed, "but it shouldn't take too long." I felt uncomfortable with the way he spoke of my voice so disconnected from myself.

"But I do stuff like musicals, not opera or operettas." I was afraid of making him had.

"Your voice is meant for so much greater." He insisted. My eyes busied themselves by following the cracks of the tiles on the floor. This was so bizarre.

"Scales." He commanded. I set my purse down on the floor and kept my distance from the piano. He didn't comment on it, so I assumed it was fine. He started to play and I couldn't help but notice his elegance. Simple scales, I know, but he moved with a fluidity and mastership I envied. In my piano playing years, I was retched to teach and could never remember all the different keys. I don't know how, but it always sounded choppy and off tempo even though I tried my hardest. Father eventually stopped after the teacher was at her limit and directed my focus to singing.

My voice was in terrible disuse. I felt relieved, looking back, that I didn't have to sing publicly on that night. I called the place and cancelled (to their annoyance), waiting for Meg and her father. In the moment, though, I was embarrassed by his excellency and my utter mediocrity. Years of lessons didn't necessarily go to waste, but higher ranges felt more difficult than before. I shrunk.

"Straighten your posture." And I immediately stood up straight, stepping my feet to be at shoulder length apart. Shoulders back. Use the diaphragm for air. Project.

"Relax." He continued. My voice faltered for a second. I couldn't relax! Not while being alone with him. My muscles stayed tense and he stopped playing.

"I-I'm sorry, just give me a second." He looked at me. I tensed up more. I looked away from him and focused on my breathing. Relax.

"Let's continue." He said suddenly and started to play again. There was still an unbearable awkwardness. Time seemed to pass slow, but before I knew it two hours were up.

"Let us stop here for today." He said as he stood up. I nodded and grabbed my purse, _so_ ready to leave and never come back.

"You must practice in you own time." He commanded. I nodded quickly and got out of there. I realized I still needed the time and date for our next lesson and the letter I was promised, but I figured those could appear in my mail easily, so I continued into my car. The drive home was in silence. When I got home I didn't want to think about music, so I pulled out the files I had and got to work. Puccini played in the background as I squinted at the small print. Perhaps I should get reading glasses…I had my calculator and punched in many numbers. It became hard to keep all straight. I noticed a strange trend. Well, I noticed it before but here it seemed unnatural. Most oppositions were shot down. Like, if someone was in the way…I booted up my laptop and opened up the files I had there.

There was definitely something big I was missing. Yes, I could come up with some of these conclusions, but why? What motive, who was angered, what connections – it frustrated me. There were some things you couldn't find out through all the paper work and documents in the world. I groaned. Yes, evidence of dishonesty in the workplace were vaguely evident with many random connections. I couldn't prove some of them, even. I groaned and my head hurt so bad. This isn't what I wanted to know. I didn't want to prove my father was a bad person or a _criminal;_ I wanted to know deeper than that. The truth. I closed my lap top and straightened up all the files spread across the table and floor.

"You guys go with the letters." I said to the inanimate objects that couldn't hear me. I yawned lightly and decided I needed to stop by the drug store tomorrow for something stronger than Unisom.

In the morning, I was given a schedule for rehearsals, but no letter.


End file.
